


An Original Trabant, Refurbished, Painted Yellow

by writingandchocolatemilk



Series: PruMano Oneshots [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 14:11:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4628235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingandchocolatemilk/pseuds/writingandchocolatemilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This car makes me want to weep and then die.”</p><p>Prussia looked up sharply, a hand held protectively on the hood of his car. Romano stood nearby, flicking the ash from his cigarette. He was wearing some nice suit, and his red Ferrari was like a beacon behind him, red and loud against the gray of the World Meeting building.</p><p>“That’s sort of a dick thing to say,” Prussia said after a second.</p><p>“Is it?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Original Trabant, Refurbished, Painted Yellow

“This car makes me want to weep and then die.”

Prussia looked up sharply, a hand held protectively on the hood of his car. Romano stood nearby, flicking the ash from his cigarette. He was wearing some nice suit, and his red Ferrari was like a beacon behind him, red and loud against the gray of the World Meeting building.

“That’s sort of a dick thing to say,” Prussia said after a second.

“Is it?” Romano asked, but he didn’t really seem to be asking a question. Or care about the answer. “What are you even doing here?”

Prussia was acutely aware of his car. He fucking loved his car. He had painted it himself—and tried every conceivable option to scrape the paint off of the windows. Fun fact: car paint was really hard to get off of windows. And the muffler had fallen off. Prussia still had to fix that.

“Uh, I like hanging around, you know? Getting the feel for politics, the arguing, the notes.” Prussia grinned. “I miss it. Plus, West needs advice sometimes, because he’s a pushover.”

Romano snorted, taking another drag of his cigarette. “All right, if you call a total fucking hardass a pushover…” He waved his hand in a vague motion.

Prussia swallowed. “I—You want to go for a drive?”

Romano’s eyes flicked from the car to Prussia. “In  _that_?”

“Nah, in this shopping cart. Down a hill.” He looked back at the paint on his windshield. “You could just say no.”

The nation let out a heavy sigh. “If you’re going to be a bitch about it, fine.”

Prussia watched in a trance as Romano, Romano with the Ferrari and other, important things to do, got in his car. Watched as Romano cranked down the window and held one hand out, cigarette burning close to his knuckles.

Prussia panicked when Romano met his eyes.

“Are you getting in, or…?” Romano raised an eyebrow.

Prussia tried to open the driver’s door. The driver side door got stuck sometimes. Prussia shot Romano an awkward grin, placed one foot against the car frame, and managed to haul the door open.

He wasn’t sure, but Romano almost looked like he was smiling.

“So, where are we going?”

“I know this really cool place,” Prussia said.

The engine started after a couple of tries, and they were off. Romano bummed a cigarette off of Prussia, and Prussia watched from the corner of his eye as he let the spark burn down to his fingers.

There was a lot of traffic. Prussia used this time to look for something interesting. He did not, as he had thought when offering, know Turkey all that well. Romano seemed content to comment about the traffic.

“None of these fuckers can drive,” Romano muttered.

“As compared to Italians?”

“We have no laws. Everyone is concerned with getting where they need to fucking go— _unlike this asshole_!” Romano banged his fist against the car door; Prussia winced. He yelled angrily in Italian, switching back to English for, “Mother fucking cunt ass fuck!”

Prussia laughed. “What is your death rates for auto accidents?”

“Does it matter? I can get where I need to go without worrying about  _speed limits_. Or pedestrians.”

“Holy fuck, you’re actually going to kill someone.”

Romano pointed at him. “I don’t need this from you.”

Prussia held up his hands, steering with his knee. “You’re going to get sued! You’re going to run down someone and then be shocked when you’re fucking sued!”

“I’ll cross that fucking bridge when I come to it, won’t I, Gilbert?”

“I—shit.” Prussia cut the wheel, and a chorus of horns followed him down the alley. “It’s a shortcut,” he explained to Romano. Romano looked unimpressed.

The alley became narrower and narrower, and Prussia was worried that his side mirrors were going to hit the bricks.

Prussia hit the brakes.

“Wow.”

“I think I took a wrong turn.”

“Why, because we’re currently staring at a brick wall?”

“In my defense—“

“’Let me take you for a drive, Romano, even though I don’t know the city.’ I could have been at a bar by now, getting a buzz for the rest of the meeting.” Romano ran a hand over his face, but his fingers weren’t hiding the smile. “This is fucking ridiculous.”

“Romano?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t back up in a straight line.”

Romano laughed. “You’re such a fucking loser, oh my God. Switch seats with me.” 


End file.
